Battlefield
by Whistler84
Summary: A character study of Elizabeth Weir, as she contemplates John, Rodney, and her responsibilities to Atlantis. She may not have much to offer, but it will be nothing short of everything she has to offer.


**Battlefield**

**Summary: **_A character study of Elizabeth Weir, as she contemplates John, Rodney, and her responsibilities to Atlantis._

**Spoilers: **_Everything up to Letters From Pegasus._

**Rating: **_PG-13_

**Pairings: **_None, kinda. There's a hint (so small) of W/S, but its not there if you don't want it to be. _

**Warnings: **_None_

**Author: **_Whistler84_

**Disclaimer: **_Stargate: Atlantis does not belong to me…damn…_

**A/N: **_For my followers of the "Survivors" tale, sorry, but my writer's block for that story is still in effect. This is just something I did to get my creative juices flowing. I will try to update that as soon as possible (which translates into whenever the hell I get over my writer's block), so please be patient._

**lllllllllllllllllll**

They fought and they lost and they wept and they grieved.

Their very first step beyond the threshold of the Stargate, Elizabeth now realizes, was when Atlantis became a battle ground. She didn't, then. She didn't acknowledge it, or perhaps she had refused to. But the fact that Atlantis, in the very first moment that had inspired awe, had also promised death had barely even registered in her mind those initial few hours in the City. She had stepped into a destined war zone. And for all the talents and skills that Elizabeth held in her position, a General of War she was not.

Sumner should have lived.

At night, closer to dawn then to dusk, Elizabeth often stirs restlessly in her bed. She can't help but think shamefully that between her and Sumner, the wrong leader had been chosen to survive. She is a diplomat. A negotiator. A go-between that specializes in politics. And while the internal drama that often flares up between the scientists and the military of Atlantis allows those skills plenty of exercise, in the grand scheme of things, they are of little use. The Wraith view politics and negotiation as of no importance or value. So by extension, how can she make any difference? She has no doubt that when and if she ever faces the armada of the Wraith, they will find her sourly uninteresting for a person with such a flamboyant leadership mantel.

The Wraith only understand few things. Things like warfare and survival. John Sheppard excels in these things, and it is his actions and_ not_ hers that make any difference at all against the Wraith. Every passing day, she thanks whatever deity is up there that John Sheppard was there beside her. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but there is always an overwhelming sense of _relief _and . . . perhaps another emotion she doesn't care to identify,that she isn't in this alone. Sheppard maybe her second in command, but she oftentimes finds herself more trusting in his judgment than her own.

What type of leader does that make her? Not a very good one, she fears.

The Wraith also have a healthy respect for technology, whose roots lay with men of intellect; like Rodney McKay, Zelenka, and - yes, even on occasion - Kavanagh. Say what you will of the irritating man, Elizabeth reflects with a moment of bitterness, but she thinks sometimes that his uses outnumber hers. And she won't even begin with Rodney, who despite being the most arrogant hypochondriac she has ever met, is consistently the one man besides Sheppard that she relies the most heavily upon. She has lost count of the number of times he has saved this city, and she nearly flinches at the thought that at the beginning, before this all began, she actually had second thoughts on bringing this . . ._ animated_ character along with them on the expedition. She remembers silently hoping that her interactions with him would remain minimum.

She stifles a laugh at her old musings, and then sobers quickly when she thinks about what Atlantis would have been like _without_ McKay.

Without the smallest spark of resentment or hostility, just acceptance, she acknowledges that both Sheppard and McKay are far more important to Atlantis that she could ever be. For all their supposed flaws, they both have the proper sense of responsibility, and more importantly, the proper sense of _ability_ to do what is needed. If Atlantis is going to be saved, it will eventually lay with these two men. These two men, who at first glance, lacked traits she had initially considered essential to the cross-universe expedition. Sheppard, with his lack of respect for authority. And McKay, with his lack of . . . modesty and social skills. Yet, she's come to realize, these flaws weren't flaws at all, but rough gems in disguise.

Sheppard only disregarded authority when he felt he could save lives while doing it, an attribution that had already protected the livelihood of dozens of people. Which is why, even when he defies her orders, even when his actions lead to their scenario worsening, she can't quite get mad at him for it. Not really. And she silently defends to herself that it has nothing to do with his boyish charms. She has enough problems and self-recriminations to deal with, without adding favoritismto the list. He simply has the unyielding belief that he is personally responsible for every member of this expedition, and for that, she can't really fault him. It would be a noble trait, if only it didn't always end up with him turning the receiving end of any deadly situation back onto himself.

She should call it careless. She should call it unacceptable. She should tell him that he should realize that if he dies, this city would be lost without him . . . That _she_ would be lost without him.

But she doesn't, especially the last part. Admitting that would be crossing a line, she knows. She doesn't analysis it too much, perhaps because she too cowardly to look too closely at how much she's come to depend on him. That's an issue best left for the dark, she assures herself, where it has no place to grow. Besides, convincing him that the responsibility of every individual doesn't lie with him is a lost cause. Heaven forbid, he would volley those same words back at her.

And McKay, for all his arrogance and haughtiness, essentially has the _right_ to be so secure in his worth. He is, God help us all if he ever heard anyone agree with him on this, probably more important than any other two scientific minds put together. And as far his social skills go, Elizabeth notes wryly, he has improved. Or perhaps she's just building up an immunity against all the things she had once found so bothersome. Either way, she doesn't tax her world-renowned patience when speaking to him anymore. In fact, Elizabeth does not hesitate to call Rodney one of her closest and most cherished friends - leaps and bounds from her original assessment of the man.

One day, Elizabeth knows, the Wraith will be at their doorsteps and these two men will be all that stands against them at the threshold. She knows it with a certainty that frightens her. She's far more positive about that than she is about her own ability to even make a _dent_ in the outcome of such a scenario.

But until that time - and Elizabeth fells that time rushing toward her with the same sense of intimidation as an oncoming train - she will do her job. Even as she questions her own ability time and time again, she doesn't hesitate to arise in the morning for work. She doesn't falter at all when she walks through her office doors. She doesn't waver in the slightest at the copious amounts of work that face her on a daily basis. The fact remains that the work was there, and somebody had to do it. For now, until something in the situation changes, she will be that somebody. If she can pride herself on one thing, it is her utter and total devotion to Atlantis. She may not have _much _to offer, but it will be nothing short of _everything_ she has to offer.

She will listen to the needs and concerns of this eccentric and eclectic group. Address the military, address the scientists, and balance the outcomes. This is where she was in her element. Her job is to focus and guide them towards a common goal. She is there to make sure all the nuts and bolts of the system are in place. To make sure that the movements of one individual cooperated and are harmonious towards the larger designated goal of the others. She is essentially a supervisor to a chaotic factory.

Only this isn't a factory, Elizabeth thinks, coming full circle. It's a battle field. One that is in great need of a leader, and not a supervisor. One that is in need of a General, and not a diplomat. And most important of all, one who knows what she _what the hell she is doing here._

Plagued by uncertainty and self-doubt, Elizabeth tries not to let it show. In her position, showing uncertainty can be almost as deadly as making a wrong decision, and despite the Machiavellian flavor to such a statement, she's knows it's true. So, she stands tall. Stands confident and strong like her father, and prays to God no one here can see through the cracks in her facade. Hopes that the decisions she makes every second of every minute of every day do not result in the deaths and losses of the people that have come to depend on her. She has to be strong and confident. The alternative is unacceptable.

They fought and they lost and they wept and they grieved.

So why was she still here?

Against her better judgment, Elizabeth admits that she can't get enough of this place. So graceful and mysterious. It practically seduced her in a "come hither" type of way. She still remembers the first day she heard of the City of the Ancients, nothing more than a passing reference when discussing Doctor Daniel Jackson's work. She still remembers the long days and nights that followed that, where a spark of curiosity had been ignited, small and mellow at first, but destined to become something so fierce and powerful it would eventually alter the very course of her entire life. She still remembers the day she found out with finality that the _legend of Atlantis_ and the_ City of the Ancients _were one and the same, and they may one day be able to find it.

Her dream of coming here had been born that day.

She remembers these things with more clarity and nostalgia than she does of her first-ever date, her 21st birthday, or how proud she was of herself the day after the Gaza Conference in '96 when she realized her efforts as a negotiator had become internationally acclaimed. Atlantis had a way of taking over her life and overshadowing everything else long before she ever stepped foot on it. So you see, even against her better judgment, Elizabeth's only human and she feels such a sense of pride and wonder at it all, and perhaps selfishly, she's glad that she has a place in this grand adventure.

She only wishes it wasn't on a battle field.

She only wishes that the men and women under her command would not die on it. She wishes that Sumner hadn't been killed by the Wraith. She wishes Markham hadn't died on the puddle-jumper. She wishes that Doctor Peterson hadn't spent the last hours of his life infected with deadly delusions. She wishes the Marines hadn't been killed by the Genii. She wishes the dying would just stop, but knows it never will.

Yet, even outweighed and outnumbered, even plagued with uncertainty and doubt, even fighting against a threat previously unparalleled in menace and power, Elizabeth still has the strength and innocence to hope. If for nothing else, that is what she will give her people. That will be her contribution to the City, as little as it is. For a little optimism, she knows, has the power to do wonders. A General of War may not make such a statement, but as clearly evident, she is no General.

At least, she muses with a smile, it affords her the opportunity to invest in such ignorant things like hope. Because these people, far beyond the simple two of John and Rodney, are capable of such great things. And she'll be damned if she will let them falter for even one moment in despair. They have already begun their grand adventure, become heroes and champions just by stepping through the Stargate . . . now they had to prove their worth. And they will, Elizabeth knows with certainty again. She will help them do it. She will guide them, not order them, towards the common goal. She will listen, as well as be heard, to the various voices in the crowd. She will trust them to do their jobs, to lead their lives, to fight for their survival. She may not have all the answers, but she will hope that together with these people around her, they will find them. What type of leader does that make her? Maybe she should just be glad that she's a good enough leader to know when it is necessary to lead, and when it is necessary to follow.

They fought and they lost and they wept and they grieved . . . So why was she still here?

Because ultimately, she hopes, one day they might even win.


End file.
